Five Times Sherlock Met Someone Important
by Merlock-Gurl
Summary: And The One Time He Didn't.    This is the story of different people from different backgrounds come to one main goal: they must either help create, or destroy the boy who has replaced Moriarty... Spoilers for Season 2 of Sherlock and end of Merlin...
1. Prologue

Sherlock had expected Moriarty's empire to crumble with that lone shot to the head. He believed...no, knew...that the spider web Jim had worked so hard to weave had been snapped at the seams.

**He hadn't taken into account that Moriarty had a back-up plan.**

_Moriarty was impulsive, yes, that was true, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew, just as Sherlock did, that their Final Problem could only end one way. Both would have to die. He didn't know how he would do it, but Moriarty would make sure his death would cause a victory for the fallen angels. Make sure Sherlock was played right until the end._

_He had reached out within the company, testing out the waters for who could replace him._

_Irene Adler would have been the perfect choice...she was just as cold and ruthless as Moriarty. But she was currently hiding somewhere in South America, and of little use to him. She had fallen in love after all. She had become just as boring as everyone else._

_Moran was smart, yes, but he was just a hired gunman. There was no way he could run a company as elaborate as what Moriarty had created._

_And as for everyone else, well, they could barely handle themselves without itching to blow something up. Trigger happy junkies, that's all they ever were and ever would be._

_So he went with his last option. And with the pull of a trigger, a new empire began._

_One that would cause a global upheaval._


	2. Emyrs Johnson

_**Wales, 08:00**_

He sat down at a crowded café and sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. They had put him on tourist duty, doomed for what seemed like eternity to tell the tragic tale of King Arthur and his court as he led throngs of people through the ruins.

They had gotten it wrong, the story they made him tell every person that passed through. He knew it was to add a touch of heroic splendor to Arthur, making him go from a peasant boy, unaware of his fate, to king of Camelot all in one day, and become the greatest ruler Camelot had ever known. He would marry the beautiful Guinevere, who would eventually leave him for one of his most trusted knights, Lancelot. He would die at the hands of Mordred.

The only people who knew the truth were either dead or couldn't remember anymore after so many changes, so many different appearances and lives and tasks they were expected to do for their short lifespan.

Merlin had never been so lucky.

He had finally gotten back his original body after all these years…well, pretty close to his original body anyway. Tall, lanky, piercing blue eyes and large ears, they had all returned.

Not that anyone would recognize him.

He had taken the job as a tour guide purely out of necessity. With each reincarnation, his once great power had waned until he was reduced to doing simple magic, reducing his funds with time as well. He chuckled a little as he remembered the life where he had become an oil tycoon in the 1920s who also ran a speakeasy. He had been rich and happy. He had been killed at 27, shot in the back of the head by some gangster that wanted the speakeasy for himself.

His reincarnations never lived past a certain point, 29 being the latest he had ever gotten before he was once again killed off, this time by drowning while trying to save a little boy in 1910.

He was 24 in this body, and was trying to make the best of it. He had lost Arthur long ago, sometime in the 1940s when Merlin had been chubbier and much shorter, and Arthur had been the tall, lanky one. He sometimes wondered if he would ever see his best friend again.

Morgana had disappeared from his life immediately after their original death, when everyone thought it was really the end, that they would all meet in some form of the afterlife. He was quite happy about this fact. He never wanted to see her again.

He sighed and reached for his coffee mug, only to be blasted to the ground in the next instant. He looked up from where he had fell cautiously, his eyes resting on the wreckage.

There were young men and women, screaming at the top of their lungs as some tried to call the police, an ambulance, anyone that could help them. In the middle of the blocks of rubble, stood a striking young woman with piercing green eyes and long black hair. She seemed to be smirking as she delicately lifted her stilettoed feet and gingerly made her way through the rubble until she was standing in front of him.

Oh no. oh holy fuck no.

"Hello Merlin," she said, watching him almost with pity. "I see my little blast didn't go according to plan. Oh well, you win some…"

She knelt down beside him, drawing out a small dagger from her pantsuit pocket before holding it against his throat.

"You lose some."

She raised the small knife, ready to plunge it into his throat (She hadn't outgrown her tendency to be overdramatic, Merlin noticed with slight amusement), when a young man Merlin didn't recognize tapped her on the shoulder.

"Boss?"

She practically groaned and looked up at the man fiercely.

"What?" she hissed.

"We found him," the man replied simply, but the look on her face made it seem as if he had told her the secret to eternal youth.

"Where?" she asked eagerly, pocketing the dagger.

"Two blocks. Just finished killing off Robertson."

She rose quickly and turned towards Merlin, grinning maliciously.

"Take him to 0216," she murmured to the man, who nodded and proceeded to handcuff Merlin.

Merlin watched as she sauntered away, before he was shoved into a nondescript car and driven off to a nearby warehouse.

So Morgana had become a crime lord…well, he couldn't say he was surprised.

He had only been taken out of the car when he felt something sink into his neck. He had only a moment to feel the slim needle before he blacked out, collapsing to the ground.

He awoke groggily to a tin plate of food, his stomach betraying him. He scarfed it down in mere moments before he stomach clenched and he barfed it all up again from the quick consumption. Merlin wondered how long the drug had knocked him out for.

He was in a concrete room, the bare necessities in one corner: a small bed and a metal toilet. He looked around the room for a window, a door, anything, but he appeared to be sealed off from the rest of the world.

He stood at a wall for a moment, searching for any form of a crack, when a deep voice boomed in the room.

"You may wish to step back, Emyrs Johnson."

Merlin immediately obeyed, and watched as the wall he was standing nearby before exploded, the rubble flying towards him. He crouched into a defensive position as the rubble sprayed over him, before risking a glance up.

The room had been connected to a hallway, which was now strewn with dead bodies. A young man stood in the centre of the chaos, a gun sitting in his worn jacket pocket. He looked almost homeless, his clothes all torn and dirty as he watched Merlin with pale blue eyes that stood out amidst the dirt. Without so much as a pause, the man turned around and practically sprinted down the hallway.

And without thought, Merlin followed. Because it seemed a whole lot better to follow the man who was his saviour than stay in this concrete block, where the other horrors Morgana planned for him would be waiting with open arms.


	3. William Budson

He watched the world pass him by, watched as the world slowly forgot who he was until he was a dull memory to the rest of the world.

He was almost 35 now, that age when suddenly the world would expect him to be married and having children. He had never wanted that. Not that he hated kids per se. It was more...the PERSON he would have had kids with...well, she wasn't exactly around.

It had frightened him how easily he had adjusted to his new life - a new apartment, a bigger lab and all the perks that came with becoming an official Evil League of Evil member. Then again, they never really did much except sit on their butts and wait for the Council of Champions to have a weak moment.

Until 2010, that is.

Some unknown man (who didn't even have super weapons, sheesh) had swept in and taken over the ELE. Bad Horse had become more of a figurehead, and no one seemed to care.

Suddenly, the members were being mapped out all over the world, turned into assassins and snipers for the infamous Jim Moriarty. Some members has been brilliant, and others, well, they were easy to dispatch.

Dr. Horrible had the misfortune of being an excellent sniper. He had traded in his Freeze Rays and Death Rays for pistols and army rifles, taken off the red labcoat and thrown away the googles. He wasn't even called Dr. Horrible anymore. They had decided to call him Budson.

He wished he could say he hated his job, but the truth was, he loved it. Loved how elegant and simplistic the deaths were. He particularly liked to kill off tall men with thick brown hair.

When news had spread that Moriarty had bumped himself off, a new item of interest had already come in: his replacement was already at the head of the "company", and this spider was even more intricate than Moriarty.

Budson had been shocked when he was made one of this new kid's right hand men, but had taken the position willingly, knowing the closer he was to the boss, the easier his life could be.

Budson - now just Billy again - had opened his flat in London to notice that somehow he had run out of groceries, AGAIN. Honestly, he thought someone was employed to do this job for him.

He grabbed his keys and made his way out the door to the familiar grocery shop nearby.

He passed by a group of homeless people - "they're a symptom - you're treating a symptom" - and rubbed his eyes as an image of a young woman with red hair and the kindest eyes he had ever seen smiled at him. Fuck, after all these years and he could still remember her face as clear as day.

He remembered that idealized young man he had once been, eager to take over the world, and wondered how he had let himself become a hired assassin in the first place.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice until it was too late and whacked right into a young man carrying grocery bags.

"Sorry," he mumbled automatically, looking at the young man's face.

The young man was grimy, probably homeless, but his eyes shone blue as they appeared to be...calculating him? No, that couldn't be right. Without a word he kept on walking.

Billy wondered idly why he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as soon as the man walked away.

By the time he realized who the man was, he practically bolted down the street, only to find the man that was supposed to have DIED for craps sake was walking down the street while the world just kept spinning, unaware.

He barely registered dialing the number until a familiar male voice picked up.

"Tell Robertson to start tracking the Virgin. Turns out a blow to the head wasn't enough. Yes, he's alive. DON'T ARGUE. TRACK HIM," he hissed menacingly, a little bit of his Budson persona sneaking in.

Billy hung up the phone shakily.

Well, he still needed to buy those groceries.


	4. Matilda Jones

She sighed as she drew on her coat, happy that another work day was finally over at Speedy's Café. She made sure to leave through the kitchen, waving goodbye to the cooks and slipping a brown bag filled to the brim with food off the counter and under her arm.

The cooks were used to her taking extra food, knowing she rarely cooked for herself. She knew they would stop her if they knew where the food was really going.

He waited for her, the tip of his cigarette glowing amidst the darkness. He looked grubbier, more dirt and sweat present on his almost too-thin body. A thick knitted cap covered his messy black curls, his bright blue eyes contrasting almost harshly. She offered the bag to him nervously, allowing him to snatch the package from her hands and dive into it hungrily.

He always gave her a curt nod and a quick 'Thanks', the only word he would speak in her presence. She always just nodded and smiled, before telling him about the only person who really mattered to him.

"He brought in a girl today, a Samantha or something. She's pretty, threateningly so, but he didn't seem too fazed. She's a cheater, but he doesn't know it. The only reason I know is because she always brings in a man to the café when she's dating them, and she's brought in at least five men this month. He'll probably break it off with her. He's doing better, not on the edge so much. He still misses you though."

Sherlock nodded, still not speaking.

"I'll bring you more food tomorrow night, so make that bag last," she murmured as she pointed to the bag. He nodded tersely.

She smiled and waved goodbye to him, before walking down the street to her small flat.

She didn't notice him watch her intently as she walked away, the tiniest of smiles present on his lips as he looked down at the brown bag in his hand.


End file.
